


‘Fraid Of The Frayed

by GothMoth



Series: Phantom Phang Phucking Phreaking Phantastical Phabulous Phic Phight Phics 2.0 (The 2020 Edition) [12]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Horror, Monsters, little bit of blood and gore, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth
Summary: Forests are strange things, you never really know what’s inside until you go looking. And generally, it’s better off that way.
Series: Phantom Phang Phucking Phreaking Phantastical Phabulous Phic Phight Phics 2.0 (The 2020 Edition) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685341
Comments: 19
Kudos: 101
Collections: Phic Phight!





	‘Fraid Of The Frayed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleEggBuddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleEggBuddy/gifts).



It happened while they were camping. Another one of jazz’s silly little bonding attempts that were really just thinly veiled ways to try and force him to take a vacation from being Phantom. But Phantom was just part of who he was now so he had thought it was stupid and pointless. He even told her as much. She had simply said that was proof that this was a good idea and that they should go. 

He really wished they hadn’t gone. And he also rather wished he _wasn’t_ half-ghost. Wasn’t Phantom. Because of those ghostly senses of his. Because of those honed instincts of his. Because of the routine of heading into danger being something very much imprinted in him. 

He had heard it when they had been asleep. The sound of creaking bones (Jazz would be worried he was so familiar with that sound) followed by wooden wind chimes and a low didgeridoo. It was a sound he thought Sam might like. She liked odd instruments. He couldn’t have said he liked it. The didgeridoo had been just loud enough to his ears that his skin had felt as if it vibrated with it. Just loud enough that he couldn’t sleep. Just loud enough to have left him awake enough to not only hear but _feel_ the footsteps of something bipedal. That had snapped him to attention. Had got him out of the tent. His ghost sense hadn’t gone off but a wild animal could be just as dangerous. Maybe the sound was in his head, some kind of ghostly thing to warn him of a predator. He rather wished that had been the case. He had made his decision to check it out at the sound of crunching bark. 

He had smelt it nearly as soon as he had started towards the sound. That had been a warning. Like his ghost sense was. But everyone knows how he reacted to warnings. He ran at them. He hadn’t recognised the smell of myrrh, musk and soggy leaves was a warning though. Why would he have? The large amount of fungus around had been stranger, Candle Snuff, Bleeding Tooth’s, and Stuffed Mushrooms. He’s pretty sure he even walked by a large patch of Reindeer Lichen that had been actively growing. He hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, surprised his parents picked a strange forest. It had made him slightly worried about Blood Blossoms though. But the only plant that had made him stop stalking after the strange sound and the footsteps with it (just how far away was it?) had been a simple Voodoo Lily. Sam would have been furious if he hadn’t taken a picture of it and the smell had been simply _wonderful_. Even if he knows the only reason he likes the scent of death was because he himself was something dead. If he planted those flowers at home Jazz would kill him. He knows a few ghosts who would like to know that is there though. More crunching bark had gotten his attention back to his task. 

He had tasted it, the musk on the air, once the Lily’s corpse scent had faded into the distance. It wasn’t just musk, expected because of the smell. But cooper and ice water. Which had brought the image of chilled blood to his mind. He had smacked his lips a bit, had clicked his tongue. It hadn’t been a good taste but it had been faint, even to his heightened senses. He couldn’t stand strong spices anymore. To a human, he thinks it might have tasted something like a far off penny maybe. The taste of a sweet red wine is what had actually given him pause though. Unsure of what sort of animal or maybe bug? could make air taste of wine. He could thank Vlad for why he was even familiar with the taste at all. Opening his mouth had made it very clear it was from the same direction as everything else. The crunching of bark sounded more like a snake coiling too tight around a tree trunk at that point. Instead of something biting thin branches. 

He had felt it, really and truly, when he had started finding bits of damaged bark on the ground. Broken branches and chunks of wood slivers embedded in the ground like spears. The skin vibrations the didgeridoo sound inspired was nothing to the way his bones seemed to rattle then. The numbness to his fingertips, toes and cheeks; like the wine was real and he had merely drank too much. His teeth had felt loose, like he could have pushed them forward and out with his tongue. He had blamed the forming migraine on all the then strong scents and tastes; on the rattling bones feeling. His skin actually twitching was something he absolutely had recognised as a warning though. Even if that only served to encourage him. Whatever was setting off his warning bells surely couldn’t be let near the camp. They were sleeping. Because all of this must have been in his mind right? Just instincts humans don’t possess warning him of a predator.

He saw It then. Even if it was dark out. And he had known, on some level, that everything had been an outside force pressing down on his senses. Not something of his mind. He had stood and simply blinked at It. Its ash blackened boney narrow snouted crocodile-like head turning with the loud creaking of bones as It had snapped Its sharp jaws around the trunk of a tree some forty feet up. The tree had creaked and groaned with the rough handling as the chunk Its mouth had closed around splintered apart. Chunks of wood slivers and bark had rained down, stuck into the slightly wet ground very loudly; it had made him flinch. Some pieces were bigger than he was. 

It snorted out mist and he understood where the scents had been coming from. The musk and myrrh; the leaves under Its nose shrivelling up had added the scent of soggy leaves, while It had moved on to the next tree on Its two hairless yet wolf-like legs. Its glowing white eyes had shone beams of foggy light wherever It had looked. He had swallowed then and moved to keep the thing in his sights a little. If he had to guess, he would have said the wine taste on the air came from Its antlers, covered in vines and bright red grapes. He didn’t even have to guess, he _knew_ in some way that those grapes were _not_ edible. Not that he had been intending to try. He had figured out the purpose of the smell and berries when a bird had flown to perch on the vines and take one. In an instant Its head had turned sharply, jaws parted and snapped shut around the much smaller bird. It had seemed pleased.

That’s what had gotten him to notice the thing's chest, Its ribs were fully exposed and ran over top of the flesh of Its chest. The ribs had moved and drummed across the chest skin with Its likely pleasure over a small meal. When It had turned back to the trees he had been able to see the holes at the ends of the ribs, _that’s_ what had been making the didgeridoo sound. Air, breathing, moving through the ribs. Through whatever that creature had for lungs. The skin underneath didn’t move with breathing and the skin was pulled taught everywhere, he had even been able to see Its spine rolling underneath. Bits of moonlight reflected off of each bump. 

He had slinked to hide behind a tree when the creature had apparently found what It had been looking for within the trees. A family of foxes that had pink horns coming out of their foreheads; they had made shrill sounds like little small bells and tried to flee. The creature's ribs moved and peeled back like bone wings and made a deep bellowing bagpipe sound. Before It had extended Its disturbingly long arms and grabbed the horned foxes up in Its human-like hand, even if the fingers were far too long. It crushed them up like a soft fruit accompanied by the sound of splashing in maple syrup and the crunch of bones. The only thing that had kept him from throwing up right then and there was how It had tilted Its head back and lifted up Its hand, that had been dripping with blood and viscera, and dropped the mess into Its gaping maw. The ribs then had snapped back to their previous position only after gifting him with the image of something landing with a thunk inside the creature's chest. The ribs drummed over the flesh there in some sort of mockery of someone rubbing their satisfied stomach. He figures the thing's stomach _must_ be in Its chest. Seeing as where a human would have their stomach, It had only taught skin surrounding spine bone. 

He had decided then, that he’d know if that _thing_ wound up anywhere near the camp. It was huge, and smelled, and felt, and tasted; of so much. He’d notice Its presence long before It was on top of his family. He’d leave the creature. He fought ghosts, not things of flesh and bone. But it was also then he had discovered he hadn’t yet heard all the sounds of that thing. As It had spoken. Spoken low and rumbled with it. Shook the ground and made the trees creak with it. Made his bones rattle like they would vibrate so hard they’d liquefy and seep out of his pores. It spoke as he had moved to leave. As he had snapped a bit of the tree shrapnel that had littered nearly the entire area of that creature's carnage. It had snapped Its crocodile-like head around and had shoved it practically on top of him. Its sunken eyes had bored into his wide blue ones. There was nothing else he had been able to really see, Its head was easily three times his size. And it had felt cold, the fact that he felt that coldness even with his Core of ice had been terrifying. He hadn’t needed to be able to see to know It had crushed the tree nearest to him with Its hand as It had begun to speak. He had felt Its snout open and bump against his legs. How It could do more than just growl with Its lipless boney mouth he didn’t and doesn’t know. 

“C̵͐̑̃̿̊ͧ͊́ͥ̊̽ͭ͂̚͏̛̪̬̫̦̘̜͓͖͕̝̱̼̜ŗ̦̪̞̱̥̬̜̦͉̪͕̭̠̽͑͐͛́̄̓ͮ͟ë̶̑̈́̃́̓͋ͫ̆͜҉̮͔̩̹̰̱̭͜a̴̵̲̲̪͕̦͇̥̘͈̤̭̝̣͍̦͉͔ͦ̓ͤ̒͘͢͡t̡̠̮͎͕͉̻͇̗͔̬̱͖̙̗̦̱̐̋̏͗u͗̾̎̊͏̴̸̢̯͚̫̜̘̲̙͉̜̬̠ͅr̴̷̨̖̗͈̣͖̬͙̙̯̘̪͈̻̟ͤ͊̀̍̐̑ͫ̾̐̆̃͟e̩̹̤̗̲̗͉ͥ́ͣ̈͐͗͑̓̈́̎̽ͫͩ̈́̃̒͘͘͜ ̵̷̴̡̹̙̮̰̗͍̈ͣ̿ͩa̛̗͔̰̫̺͋ͫ̈̅̔̽̀͗ͦ̃͒̚͢ ̢͎̰͎̱̥̪̩̣̫̦̰̦̰̘̱͆̈́̍̿̇͌ͬͧ̏̇́̀͑ͬͪ̉̕ͅm̵̜̟̘̜̳͉̻̣͈̰̃ͫ͂̔̈́̍̇͆͒͛ͧ͂̓̊ͦͣ̇̏̒͘͡ͅe͊͗̉ͨͭ̑̏́̀͏̠͉̯̹̩̝̦̳̦͟͝͝s͔̯̠͉̬̖̭͇̲ͨ̐̽̋̽ͮͨͅs̶̢̢̙̹͕̫͈̱͚̗̦̪̙̣̎̈́ͦͫ̐ ͐ͯ̀ͭ͢҉̸͚̭̘̺͚͚̯̮͖̣̻̣̱͉͉͘o̡͂͌͂̅̓͊ͦͭ̓ͫ͋̊͊ͪ̒̑̚̕͢͠͏̻̲̯͉f̛̗̪͍̗ͪ͛̑̈́̈́̌̓̋͛̊̇͢ ̢̫̠̝̼̞͕̪̝̩̱͚͇̫ͧ̄̎ͥ͐͟͜b͆ͫͯ͢҉̱͕̗͍̖̺͈l̷̨̬͈̰͎͎̺̫̦̯ͬ͂̌̋̋̓̾ͨ͗̚ȏ̖̫̦͍͙̝̝̠͉̣̝̦͎̻͉̻̹͎̍ͪ̄̐̄͐ͥ̐̓̍͜͝ơ̼͎̟̫̝̖̰͚̼̙̬͚̺ͫ̎̉ͫ͜ͅͅď̷̰̬̹̠͙̫͙̫̹ͧ͂̎̏̒̕̕͢ͅ ̸̡̤̘̘̯̼̼̼̗͔͎͙̲̯̣̏ͫ̌̈̑̆ͮͯ̽ͅͅä̵̛́ͥ͗ͯ̏͐̓͋ͮ̊ͦ͛̎ͥͥ̋͊ͨ҉̨̹̝͍̤̘͎͈̙̞̱̞͍͉̙͞ͅn̷̢̛͙̘̳̺͖̙̳͂ͤ̀̃̎̊͡ͅd̡̨̪̼̯͎̪̣͇̤̐̓̈̈̽̌̈́ͧ̓̆̇͗̑͆ͦ̓͐̏͝ ̵̶̢̢̫̮͓͔̖͍͚̹̬̳͖͈͎̻͙͙͋̂̂͑ͦ̎ͬ̇ͨ̄̓̎̌͌̊͛͌d̵̠̝͇̥̥̲̺͈̳̞̻̞ͧ̉́̈́ͬ͞ẹ̦̲̫̹̼̗̿̍ͮͪ̅ͨͣ͗̂̅̈́̚͟͠ą̛̠̰͖̫͚̣̮͚̠̮͖̤̳̼͕̞̘̪̆̉ͭ̅̽̓̎͐ͮͧͤͭͨ̈ͧ̌̀̈͘͠͡t̵̡̢͙͉͚͔̖̱͕͈̟̭̼̠͌͑ͥ͒ͪ̔́͗̅̋̑͌̚͢ͅḩ̴̗̦̩̞̥̪̠̠̩̼̰͎̞̰ͦ̓̔͐ͧ͘ͅͅͅ.̇ͤͣ̓ͬ̃̾͊҉̴͈̫̫̪̻̗͉̙͍̜͟ͅ ̢͚̻͚͍̪̉̂̔ͦ̾̓̕͡Ḩ̪̩ͬ͑̐ͦ̀̿͋̀ͨ̆ͯͦ̊ͤ̿ͤ̉͡ͅo̸̶͍͍͙̲̲̳͙̱͚͔̝ͯ̐̌̄ͧ͆̏̇̑̓͘w̨̨̛̜̫̞̠͓̤͚̗̬̗̩̰̄͐̿̑̔̒̐͋́ͮ͌̈́ͨͅ ̸̨̛̥̗͚̼͔͒ͫ̅ͤͪͯ̉̆ͅt̶̡̧̛͈̘̰͕̩̝̖̲̥̻͇̖̩̺̫̔̆̉͂̋̍́ͮ̆̎͂̔ͩ́̑̄̑͑͞ͅa̴͙̲̘͎͉͎̪̰̟͖̼̬͖͉͌̄̆ͭͦ̒͜͠s̵̡͖̳͓̯͓̣͌ͭ̎̅ͭ̆̉t͇͇͎̟͔̗̘͚̹̻̩͈̮̣͖̳͔̠̟̋̌ͦͨ̊ͫͥe̥̜̜͍̬̩̟͍͕̗̫̲͖͙̋̐̊͒̂̂͗̕͠ͅ ͋̓̏͆͋͋́̎ͬͦ̚͝͏̸̢̰͖̫͉̙̝ͅy̐ͬ͑̌̐̎̆҉̹͎̯̺̲͚̭̭͔̰͕͙̭̩̕ͅo̵̡̙̳̞̦̜͎̺̯̜͖̮̰͕̜̞̽ͦ͋̊̄̉̾ͤͨͮ͂̚͟ũ̒͛̌ͮ̋̽͐̏̽̾̌̿҉̸̠͚̩̤͖͇̥?̺͙͉̤͔͕̪͇̻͔̩̪͖̄̓̅̿̿͜͢͝”.

He had breathed rapidly as the thing had licked him from the sole of his foot to the last tip of hair. It had smelled of copper and ice. He didn’t want to think about why. The smell of wine had been near overpowering as Its vines and grapes had hung down and curled in piles over the ground like sweet-smelling hair. 

He was in danger. He had known that on every level. But he couldn’t have risked leading _that_ to camp. And for whatever reason that he still can not place, his body refused to attack the thing. He had swallowed and asked with a rasp, “wh-what are you?”. 

Its face creaked and It snorted out more scents of musk and myrrh; the grass had withered, had added the smell bit of soggy vegetation. He had just barely been able to see Reindeer Lichen start sprouting out of the ground from the corners of his eyes. It had spoken again, while staring Its pure white glowing eyes into his. 

“F̨̧͈͓̠̭̪̪͗̄ͩ̊̓͊̀͌̃͗ͮ͆ͨ̀͆̒̉ͥr͓͖͉͖̠͚͐͐̄͋ͬͮ̊̉ͣ̈́ͫ͒̋͆͝â̵̶̡̽ͦ̿̿̃̌̎̔͂̑͏̟͖͈͙̮̮̘͈͖y̸̫̘̰̱̱̦̱͈͙͐̾̍͊ͨ̃̒ͯͮ̚͝e̍̑́̓̾̀̐ͩ͒͌̏͂͞҉̶̨̞̠̼̥͖͓͖͉̲̪͚̣̟͕͠d̷̶̶̲̞̮̰̪̩̤̒ͦ͋̽͐̒̊̐͛̋̔ͥͬͣ̑̆ͦ̚.̸̙̟͈̠̦̟̟͉̞͔̻͊ͤ̎ͨ̍̐͗ͩ̈́ͯͧ͗̈́ͨ̽̚̚͜ͅ ̸̧̨̤̖̹̫̥̩͔̪͉͎̦̙͔͍̱͚̉͋ͬ̅͑̒̀́̈́ͦ̂̌ͫͤ̅ͮ̈Y̸̵̗̮̪̼͔̟͔̫̯̗̝͍͍͉̘͚ͩ̋ͩ́͞o͂͛̒̃̆҉̨͚̝̪̥̠͔͓̟͕̤̩͔ų̶͈̮̹̙̬̫͈̩̠͓̟͈̹͍͗ͧͩ̈́͆̆ͫͣ͑̕͞ͅͅͅ ̴̴̦̰̭͈̯̦͈̺ͭ̀ͤͭ͋͆̽̿̋͆͌͂͋͊́̂̊͝ͅm̷̊̓ͪ̋͐ͩ͆ͪͥ̉̐҉̦̗̦͎̪̕͘͜a̸̺̫͇̹̠͈̱͙̞̺̱͌̅̋ͣ̄̉ͧ̌̃ͥͦ̆̏̚̕͞y̙̖̦̯̜̘̼̠͔̬̮̣̯̠̻̜͙̯͎̆ͫͤͪͫ̐ͬ̓ͧ̈ͥͫͪ̓̕͟͝ ̧̋ͪ͑͌̂͛̀̆͆̈͡҉͙̤̬͓͖c̬͈̼̟̺̠͌̎ͯ͑́a̷̎̊̌̉ͦ̓ͫͪ͆̀̀̀̊̾̉ͨ͗ͧ͘҉̤͇̤̼͍̫͓̭͠l̏̾̆͆̊͗͒̏ͥ͊ͫͯ̒͗͑ͮ̈́̚̚҉̴͈̦̳̹̞̥̳̲͇̹̜͟͞l̫̜̻͍̲̻̙̤̥̘͔̲̙ͯ͒ͮ̄͐̓͐͘ ̌̎̀ͦ͂͒ͦͤͤ͂ͫͭͩ̾͂ͥ҉͏̡͔̜͇͇̗̫͓̮͝ͅm̧̟̥͕̻̞̝̖̭̯̘̬͙̱̦̩̲̮̰͋̂̋͆͌̎͋̈́͘͠͡e̶̡͎̩̤̟͉̰̻̜͈̞͍̪͍̮͎̜̦̗ͬ̊ͪͭͪͮ̓̌ͯ͌̏̀͆ͪ̓,̵͍̲̟͙̲̃͗̀͋̈̐̚͡ ̢̰͕͇̫͎̠̼̹ͣͥ̌͜͢͢s̵̷̨̨̻̜̮̹͔͍̪͈͙̪ͯ̐̀̏̍̃͆̂ͣ̍͑̋m̸͚͈̠̫͖̼̬̺̖͖̒̎̐̈́̓̂ͦ͐̍̓ͧ͡͞a̧̲͉͖̬̯̦͉̥͉͎̫͚̖͎͑ͥͬ̑̈̑͂͊̓͡ͅľ̄̑̏̓҉̸̸̤̦̺̟̖̤͓̫̟͎͎͟ͅl̸͗̐͛̈́̔͂̓̊͗̑̄ͪͦ̂̔̎͠͡҉͖̭͖̣͉͙͉͇̯͚͔ͅͅͅ ̢̛͚͍̬̣̹̲͙̝̣̞̉͒͗̅̇̂͆̃̅̊ͅa͆̎̾ͫ͘̕҉͕̪̙̖͢ͅb͆̏̉̉̂͗ͭ͜҉̢͙̳̥̠̹̘͇͈̙̩̠̭͉̠͔͟ǫ̵̙̰̖͂͋ͨͪ͟ṃ̧̩͈͙̲͖͈͎̤̗͎̿̒̔̑̃̂̿͗ͤͮ͡ͅį̢̨ͦͨ̆̀ͯͪ҉̜̭̻̤͚n̡̛͕͉̣̙̼̹̭͆ͨ͛͊̊̀̍̉̍͛ͥ͋̈̽̈̎͒͒͝å̧̦̥̻̝̣̝͕̖̲͔̠̓̂̆́̊̏̔͒ͩ͐ͨ̌̚͠͠t̿̿̿ͬ͏̴̤̫͍̗̝̭̺͔̜̭̝̻̼̹̩̹̲̼ͅi̸͖͚̠̹̲̫̮̫͓̜̰͒̈́͒̿̎͂ͨ̽̀o̴̷̳̫̜̰͈̘̹̬̰̿̓̆ͦ̊͊ņ̸̹͍̗̬̒͌̔ͭͩ́ͨ͟͠”.

He had no clue if the thing had said ‘afraid’ or ‘fray’ or ‘frayed’. And he hadn’t been about to ask for clarification. Especially when the thing then rapidly moved Its head, pinned him to a tree with one of Its disturbingly moving ribs and then nipped him on the shoulder. He had had enough of a mind to flee for his life _and_ afterlife as soon as It had pulled back from him. It had spoken once more as It had watched him go.

“Hͯͧ̌̿̄͌̈̿ͮͦͬ̓ͦ̽ͧ҉̛̠̬͎͍̟̳̤̗͖̘̫̳̥͈ű͌̾ͯ͗ͮ̈̀ͣ̑ͣ̃̚͏͡҉̬̗͕̭̜͙̺̳̺͚n̡ͫͩͩ͋ͩ͑̚͜҉̥͕̫̹̼͕͈͓͎̰̘̘̥͝g̴̢͉̱̹̞̜͍͇̙̙̥͇̭̭̞͖̠̺̾̀͆͋̀̈̂̒͌ͫ̆̐̌̈́̆̚̚̕e̖͓̳̘̙̼͉̗̳̝̠ͮͧ͗͋ͬ͆̊ͯ͂͌ͬ̉̈̾̐ͫ͆͝r͇̯̠̳̪̺̠̺̟̘̠̱̬͔̬͍̤͑̎̈ͯ͆͒͋ͯ͆́͠ ̨͂͋͋̓̏̄ͧͤ͑̅͑ͮ͋҉̪̩͈̟͖̤̞̹͕̯͚͚͙̘̙̲̱n̶̢͛͂̍̓͛̀̀͟͡҉͎̰̟̜̹̥͍̱̳̤̗̩̜o̴̡͕̜͚̲̝̻̱̦ͥͣͭ͆͆͂̿̍̾̇̑̋͒̏̚̚͞͠t͂ͥͩ̓̊̈́͊̆̔̌̃ͦ͏͎̞̙͖͕͇̪̻͎̭͔͔̺̭̩̮̠͔̖͘͡.̢̩̩͚̠̮̬͔̮̓̊̓̓̀ͯ̀͂̔͞͞͝ ̸̬͚̱̘̼̭̜̝̥͕͂̃̄̕ͅD͉̰̲͍̙͕̗͎̰̝̬̠̩̥̮̲ͥ͆̋ͫ͒̈́ͦ͋̓͆̎̑͆͆̄͗̋͞ͅͅę͍͖̞̲̺̰͎̪͕̥͛̋͋̉̓͠s̘̬̦͖̰̉͐ͣ̓͊ͣͫ̓̈́͌̄̓͒ͬ̄̚͝ĩ̌̏̾͐ͪͯ͐ͦ͋͆ͫ̔ͦͫ̈̎̚͏̫̟͇̠̝̠͙̬͔͍͞r̸̷̹̟͚̗̠̞ͤͮ̈̾̏ͫ͗͛ͯ̃͛̂̈̄͛ͬ̾͡e̵̷̢̢̱̝̥͓̥͖͎̲̘͔̭̣̺̒ͣ̋̾ͥ̓ͤͫ́ͯ̃̌̈͛̍ͫ̈́̚ ̴̢̨̘͔̲̖̮̃͂ͧ̂̑̓͐ͧͮ͑ͪ̆̋ͥͩ͋̍͂ͪ͠͠n͓̲͕̬̜̻̩͉̤͍̠̱͖͂̈́ͫ͐̕͘o̢̜͙̙̟̤̟͑ͣ̔̌ͥ̊ͥ̇̃̌ͭ̾̎͘͞͡t̥̘̮͔̥͕̩̞͍̙̗̗ͫ́͑͒̋̐ͮ̾͗̍̄͗̾̅ͯ̋͑̂͘͟.̢̛̲̜̖̥̤̂ͯͧͦ̎ͨ̒̇̽͋̓͑͆ͦ̽ ̶̨̢̥̺̦̞̖̪̬̭͍͓̣̹̼̇ͪͥ̈ͭ̒̆́̓̈ͦ̏̔͂̔̽̚͘ͅD̤̳͓̻̮̔ͦͦ̐ͯ̄͂̎͘͘͜͞e̛͇̼̜͓̱̿͊̈ͧ̾ͪ͗ͯ͟a̷͉̯̤̺͔̺͚͚͓͎͌ͤ͋͐̇͗̊̔ͫ̚̕͞ͅt̸̶̝̺̹͍̗̼̲̉̏̀̌ͯ͘͘h̢́̈́͛̇̂̀̇̀̊ͣ҉̛̞̤͓̮̠̺͚̥̦͍͉̰̗͔͔̲̘ ̸̸̳̬̹̰͎͙̙͓̩̘̰͖ͨͨ͑̃ͫ̿͌͊̀̍̓ͥ̍ͯ͆̽̏̿ͮ͟ͅṱ̴̨̣̳͚͕̠̟̙̜͕̮̰̣̝̝͇̦ͧ̀̈̒ͩͫ͑͛͗ͪ̋ä̛ͣͮ̄ͨ̇ͭ̅͌̉̈͛ͬ̓̔͆̾̂͏̡̗̟̗͉̯̮̣̩̮̬̫͉̜̥̥͍̫͟͢ͅi̸̢̺̜̞̋ͤ͊ͧ̓̈ͭ͆͂͗̐n̸̮̖̱͙͚̯̬͓̣͎̯̖͊̓͗́͜͞͞ͅt̸̗͉̭ͧ̆̑̈́ͭ̾͑̃̍́ͧ͂͐͜͝ëͮ̊͂͒̔͊̈́̊̃̒͠͝҉̗̺̠̠̖̞̮̦̤̟͓̘̥͙̟̩͍̘̼d̼̝͈̲̝͈͇̰̙͎̼͍̬͔̤̟͂̇͒̑͟͢ͅ ̸̴͇͙͇̻̩̫̭̮̝̯̥͔͕̟̯̯̩̟̬͒̈́ͩ̈ͧ̔͗ͧͧͫ͒̾̍ͫ̚b̵̛̿ͮ̇̊ͪ͂ͦ̐̐̍̋̃̄̽̐͆̚̚҉͉̜̠̻͖̳l̆̋ͣ͋͌͛̓̌̊ͬ̒̄̂̓̿̚͏̡̹̙̼̳̞̬̺̟̘̹̫̱̘̻͙̘͡ṏ́̍ͣͤͪͤ̅̏҉̷̝̗̞̯̯̱̫̭̱̳̟͙̯o̼̪̬̱̱̐ͨͧ͒͋͐̊͛̍̉̑̉ͬ̈́ͮ͒̃͛ͪ͘͘͜͞d̷̡̨͓͕̦̩͙̗̰̳̟̗̱̝͉͛ͥ̀ͫ̈̄͗̈͆͐̐͛͋ͪ̂ͅ.̶̛̙͖̘͈͉̬̘̳̤̠̖͔̥̺̯̣̳͈̦̑̒ͧ͋̚͢͞ ̴̵̡̪͈̪̹̞̟͆̍ͭ̊̄̅ͧͮ̍͂̔ͩ̍̿͑̾̑̅̑ͅͅB̥̙̳̩̻̺̄͊̎̓̐ͩ̍̉͑͒̃̀̾̍̚̕͝ͅl͉̪̥̞̮̞͓̰̳̟̹̜̺̮̭ͤ͛͗͑͐̊́͆͢͞o͗͂͌̂̅̒̓͗ͣͨ͒̀̏̚̚͟҉̴̡͍̩̫̜̙̭̜̹͎̦̳̻ͅǫ̘͎̰̭̝̳̗͈̖̝͓̲̆̊̋̿ͫ͝ͅd̴̢̧̛̞̠̼̦͙̯̹̹̳͔̙͍͎̗̮̺̈ͮ̆ͯ͢ͅ ̵̨̘̹͕̗͇̫̫̘̥͍͇͎͇̰̖̥̻͌̉ͪ̎̒͐̈̅͐̐ͩ̐̊̌ţ̖̲̲̘͍̫̩̳͈̦̣͚̯̗̠̯ͨ͊ͭͨ͂́͗͛̽͌͛͘͟͟͠ả̷̷̴̻̜̠̥͇̬͖̪̤ͭ͑̓̔͑͌ͨ̂̾̃͗͜ȋ̷̧̤̝̖͇͓̻͉͉̖̙̯̘̗ͫ̅͐ͯ̐ͮ̓̅̈́̊̉̏ͦ̃̋̎̈̚̕͝ņ͍̖͙̥̺͂̉̈ͣͦ̂͐̎̌͆͊̃ͭ̀ͨ̒ͬ͋t̛̩͖͎̹̤̝̣̩̝̞̜̯̺͔ͥͩͩ̈́͛͆ͣ͐͑ͯ̿̎̒̏͊ͪ͝ͅe̸̵̶̦͕̬̺̱̳̱̮͈̥͋ͣ͒ͥ̏̇ͤ̈́ͣͪ͐͜͝ͅd̵̸̨̫̟̝̜̮ͣͧ̾̋͑͌ͪͣ͊͒͑͢͝ ̛̪͇͉̰͎̪̳̩̲̙̘̲̠͂ͣ́́͑̀ͨ͜͞͞d̴̦͉̰͚̭̱̃́͐̿́̽̆ͬ̅ͤ͐̿̑e̸͔͖̣̻̤̗̜̤̟̲͇͊ͤ̍ͧ̂ͣ͒̒ͤͬ̓͟͠a̷̛̤̰͚͚͇͉͈̞͐̂̔͑̓̿͊̔͋ͣ̅͑͒ͣ̚t̵̡̿ͣ̍̿̽͂̀͛̓̈͋̊̑͋͡҉̙̤͎̠͕̙̙̜͍͚͎͈͔̖̹̻̻ͅh̛̟͖̦͖̼̣͍̟̝͕̟̫ͦ̿̔͒̒̉̉̂̌ͩ̽̋ͮ̆͂͐̊̚.̷̶̢̞͖͖̗̘͙̞̝͎̳̼̤͑̾ͭ̐̊̓̏͘ͅ ̿ͣ̄ͧ̏́ͥͫ͆ͯͥͧ̚̚͜҉̧̧̞̦͕̯̥̩͕̩̜͘Ů̌͒̄ͦ͆́͋ͩ͐͊̿͋̇̎͗̌ͫ̚͏̡͈̦̭͚̹̪͇̤͕̲̞͇̣͎n̸̡̼̤͍̖̫̺̦̥̠͂̃ͭ̌͊̽̄ͤ̄̐́͊̃ͤ̓a̡̢̧̱̦̥̯̤̦̣̫͚͉̲͛͒̽ͪͧ̈̒̎͜p̙̼̯͓̼͕̺͕̟̩̲̥̦͔̪̰ͪ̉ͥ͆͝p̷̵̢̬̥̠̫̼͚̺͎͎̠̯̈͋̌̓ͪ͑̐͛͘ȩ̵̨͎̙̫̝͔̟̹͙͙̭̹͎̳̤͋ͪͦ̏̈ͮͭ͊ͩ͐́ͅa̷̗̠̭̰̖̯͉̝̥͎͍͐̿ͩ̾ͪ̎̈͆ͯ́͗ͮ͐̿̾̎ͯ̂͟l͓̖̗̬̙̥̪͔͍̖̣̃̒ͥͥ͝ì̷̛̆̆ͥ͛̿̐̃̅ͮ͜҉͉͔͓͎̤̞͓̮ņ̓ͯ̀ͭ͑̄͟͏̙̰͕̻͍̗͙̣̳̻̠̺̦̭͔̥ͅg̸̢̥̥̗̳̩̥̩̻̬͚͓̼̾̆̀̈̑͞”.

He had curled inside his sleeping bag when he got back and simply shook. Used the bag to block out as much of the sensory input from the thing as he could. That didn’t last long, because the scent of the thing had been _on him._ He washed in the river and burned the clothes. 

* * *

His whole body stayed tense until they left. He was worrying Jazz. But he would not mention that thing. Whatever exactly It was. He didn’t want to know. And as they were leaving, he decided that was a good idea. Looking behind him as he had stepped into the GAV and saw the front of a boney ash blackened snout sticking through the trees. He had stared at Its glowing lamp eyes for only seconds but that was long enough to have heard and felt Its voice rattle the GAV. His parents had passed it off as ground tremors. The area was known for them after all, and now he knows why. He’d rather not.

“Ĭ̷̴͔̞̤̬̮͑͊ͫ̎ͤͣͯ̎̿̎͆̈́͒͒́tͪ̒͋̓̍̈́ͧ̉ͦͬ̕҉҉̝͍̹̲̗̼̣̳̳̦̜͙͔͝ ̛̰͇͉͇͔̫̣̦͊̉ͯͤ͗ͥͣ̉̊̕͡͡w̰̞̘͍̣̼̑ͧͫ͐̆̃͜a͖̲̘͎̲̱̫̲̰͎͖͚ͧ̊ͨ̈̔͋ͥ̏ͫ̐͒̚̕͠s̨̛̽͋̐͊ͯ̿̔̀͗̐̽̃ͣ̎̿͋ͥ͏̶̰͓̠̹͙͉̥͓̻̲̗ ̡͇̻̙̍͆̐̒͆̂̒̏̇ͪ̇͂͑̿ͮ̆̑̚͠͠n̷̛̗͖̫̬͚̘̣̳̳̬͍͉̗̄ͨ͊̎͘i̡̛ͭ̎͛̒̌̃̒͐ͭ̑ͤ͏̠̲̠̞͔̗̱̯c̀ͥ̌̓͌ͭ͌ͮ͡͝҉̶̡͉̫̯͈̹̬͖̲̲̹͈͎͉̘͈̙̫͓ͅȩ͍̦̠̣̲͕̪͙̈́͑ͬ̊̆̿̈́ͭ̑͑ͮ͑ͣ̉ͅ ̴̸̵̡̜̭̗̥̞͚͓ͪ̅ͬ͗͐͌͋ͫ̄ͭ̈́ͯ̎̍̑̉̋̚t̷̡͓̥̫̣̠̲͇̦̜̟͉̮͚̮͖̰͔̃ͯ̆̾͆̒ͧ̾͗̎̇͘͜o̶̬̮̦͇̰͇̺͕͍͈̪͖̙̯͇̞ͯ̋̃̽̐ͭ͐̀ͦ̀̎̓̄͆ͭ̾̚͟ ̪̝̳̼̻̰̤̅̈͌ͦ̀̈́̎̓̃͐ͭ̊̑ͮͥ̂ͫ͢͟ͅͅm̄̾̈̄̅͏̧̟̳̣̖͙͔̜̱̦͚̳̭̲̣͢ͅe͋͌ͤ̊̾͂̎̋ͪ͆ͯ̀͒̿͋͋ͧ̇͝͏̛̭͕͓͟t̶̵̤̤͕͇͖͖̱̤̞̪̫̱̥̫̩͓̎͐̾̋̊͛̆̃̆͑ͩ͋͋̄͌̆ͫͧͣ͡ͅ ̷̛̪̝̠̬̬̳̻̖̽̾͊̀͑͢ͅa̰̥̤̫̳̰͓͔̤̼̺͉̣̝̟͎̟̹ͥ̐͗̐̃ͣͧ̓͛̓ͧ̂ͯ̕͘͟ ̢̛̪̯͙͉̟͚̙̙̄̈́̑̓ͬ͌̋͜͜t̡̢̥̤̥̤̼̱̜̹̳̜̦̬̣̞̰̬̉͑̆̂̆̿̅͋͆̂̿̌̊͜͜͝ͅŗ͙̩̻̟͔͙̪̙͂͑̇̎ͨ̔̔̽̇ͬ͗̄̓̈́͌́͌͊̽͠u̴̪̻̝̞̫̤ͦ̾ͥ̆ͦ̐ͥͪ̕e̸̡̛̝̻͙̹̟̻̜̥̳̭̘̖̹ͮͧ͛̀̑ͤ͒͋̀ͯͥ̈̇ͣ̀͡ ͦ͒͒̅͏̵̡̠͉̟̹̥ͅͅm̷͒̑͂ͧ̄ͨ͏̫̗̙̤̩͙̪͖͔͍̹̰̣̬̰̘ͅơ̡̢̖̟̝̩̩͈̘̻̹͖̣ͧ͆͊͒͆ͩ̾͗͂ͪ̃̇͡n̈͆̒ͣ̐̽̔̄ͩͯ͘҉̪̖̪̠̜͍̲͎s̶̟͚̤̘͔̫̟̬͖̗͉̺̳̞ͣ͐̓͊̊̅ͫ̊͌̚̕͜͜ţ̧͚̗̝̩̟̿ͪ̈́͊̽ͬ͑̋͋͛̆ͦ͐̚͝ȩ͈̮̣̥̫̼̹̗͍̰̐̾̇̉ͬͬ̍̅ͫͩͩͮ͋̃͑͗͗̽̐r̓̒́ͭ̍͛̍̌͏̜̭͕̦”. 

He wished he hadn’t understood what It had said crystal clear that time. 

**End**. 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Creator: LittleEggBuddy  
> Prompt: Danny discovers that there are much worse creatures lurking in the dark than ghosts
> 
> Zalgo (in case you can't read it)  
> Creature a mess of blood and death. How taste you?  
> Frayed. You may call me, small abomination  
> Hunger not. Desire not. Death tainted blood. Blood tainted death. Unappealing  
> It was nice to meet a true monster


End file.
